It's The Way She Smiles
by Hystericaled
Summary: Orochimaru's world shatters and everything he knew is falling apart. Even at your lowest, could you still bring yourself to trust the one who betrayed you to pick up the pieces?


**A/N: **Procrastination on revision in progress. And the plot bunnies think it's fun to assault me now. Haha. NOT funny. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy the story. :)

It's **non-canon**.

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

The night's cold was biting, enveloping the woods in a blanket of chill that ran deep into the bones; the sudden wintery spell bore no resemblance to the summer season Fire country was in the middle of. In the dense forest, the cloying sweet fragrance of poisonous oleander flowers scented the freezing air, the darkness alive with calls of nocturnal animals and insects. A vein of excitement was running through the entire forest, the trees whispering to each other in a language long lost to humans. Something was going down.

In a distance a shadow dived swiftly, wings angled and claws outstretched, while another slithered away at lightning speed. A triumphant hoot, a venomous hiss, and the horned owl soared with its prey writhing helplessly in its talons, nails that were steadily staining a thin sheen of crimson catching in the light of the crescent moon. Somewhere, an alpha wolf howled. And another. And another.

The squall blew harder, and the leaves' rustlings grew frantic as large drooping heads of a cluster of deceptively beautiful angel's trumpets nodded in the strong gust. Wind screamed through the thick foliage and canopy beyond the towering trunks of trees ancient as they whispered angrily to each other now, branches lashing the air as the gale ripped through their limbs.

Tonight, the forest was angry.

The chilly wind whipped the dark curtain of his hair about his pale face, the ends of the black cloak trailing behind him as Orochimaru's feet barely touched the branch before he propelled himself forward again, each blast of chakra he sent surging to his soles weighing heavily on his condition. Tonight was one where he was most vulnerable, his body in a critical state as the rejection of the host vessel continued to drain on his energy and health.

His teeth grounded as the flare of three chakra signatures hounding closely behind gained, and he pushed his body harder even as sweat formed a thin film of transparent on his skin and his breath came out fast and shallow.

Kabuto was supposed to hold them off, but evidently some manage to break away and chase after the Otokage. Orochimaru vaguely hoped that the boy was still alive. A talent of one such as Kabuto's caliber and loyalty to match was hard to find, and Orochimaru would really hate to lose his most capable and enthusiastic medic yet.

Tonight was not his night it seems. Konoha anbu squads had been sighted too often near the Sound hideout in the past few days, so much that it had prompted Kabuto to urge Orochimaru to shift to another location, even with the knowledge that the host vessel was at the height of the rejection phrase. Sasuke had gone ahead of them, and Orochimaru and Kabuto was just traveling to the next hideout when they were ambushed by no less than two squads.

If there was any comfort in this situation, it would be that Anko was not with him tonight. Had Konoha ninjas caught her in his embrace and company, he'd not hesitate to stay his hands from killing them, and would even relish in it. But Anko had insisted -and made him promise, that insufferable woman- that he would not attack for nothing unless provoked.

For months, their dysfunctional relationship -if it could even be called that- had been a dangerous dance about the thin blade of a cold steel knife. A fragile existence, so ephemeral, Orochimaru sometimes wondered it it truly did exist at all. Whenever a Sound hideout was raided, whenever a Konoha squad met with casualties during a scouting near the occupied hidden base, the dangers of where their true loyalty lies always threatened to cleave them apart, tear down their castle of glass, only this time -forevermore.

Yet, it was worth it. Every glare, every scathing remark directed his way when Anko found out that more Konoha blood had been spilled in his name, he gladly took.

Because the way she smile -those lush, sweet lips that gave the most pleasing dulcet when in throes of passion, slightly upturned, a teasing hint of mischief in those chestnut-brown eyes- it _blinded_ him.

Orochimaru knew, he _knew_ that he was undeserving of what she offered so readily, so willingly to him. It went against his better judgment. He shouldn't have accepted her, should have told her to return back to Konaha. Orochimaru had no right to sully her with his poisonous touch, and oh what a poisonous touch it was. Their meeting, their bonding, was an existence that was never meant to be -doomed to fail from the start. His was a world of darkness where she had no place in.

Yet when Anko came -that smile so true, a beacon of brightness so out of place in his world in its purity, it made Orochimaru's heart ache- he took all she had to offer him, and more. He'd drunk greedily, immersing himself in the bright well of her soul's offering. Trust, warmth, comfort, acceptance -a future together. Orochimaru wasn't a gentle lover, but Anko had accepted that, as she did all the rest of him months ago, unconditionally, even though he had given her nothing in return aside from physical pleasures and company.

But that was before. Just a few days ago, he'd placed a letter for Anko in her letter box, his true feelings explained as best as he could. She deserved that much. After all, she was the only one who had manage to slay the hydra.

The time they had spent together were fleeting, but every piece of memory held a special place within him. Orochimaru was not sure if he had a heart, the one that Anko so desired to open, but if he was capable of having one, it'd be given to Anko in an instant. In the past, he would have never taught it possible and would have laughed at the mere thought of it, but... It had been the happiest time of his life.

The image of Anko's smile faded, the familiar scent of apple cider, so uniquely her, receding into his memories, giving way to the sweet, sweet, sweet fragrance of the poisonous wild oleanders and the darkness of the woods.

Orochimaru hissed as he pressed hard on the wide gaping slash on his side, a futile attempt to staunch the flowing blood as pain seared through his veins. His pale hand came away from the raw wound, blood thick and opaque on his fingers. The wound burned and throbbed as the regenerative powers of the white snake worked to close the injury, stitch by painful stitch of flesh and skin.

He was above a small clearing in the forest, when from a corner of his eyes, a blur blindsided Orochimaru who only manage to barely twist out of the way of the gleaming edge of a katana wielded by an anbu donning the mask of a cat. Orochimaru landed, executing a graceful back flip that gave away nothing of his fatigue to the perceptive anbus at the clearing, neatly avoiding the barrage of kunais flung his way.

Soft soil squelched under his feet as Orochimaru darted into the shadows. His hands formed the seals quickly, and when an unsuspecting anbu passed him, his snake summons striked, sinking their fangs and injecting potent venom into the ninja. He fell to the ground in a violent spasm, body writhing grotesquely.

One down. Two to go.

Orochimaru would have stopped to admire his handiwork, but the horace cry caused his comrades to spin around.

Kusanagi already in hand, Orochimaru engaged the other two anbus. He leaned back as a roundhouse kick came at his face, but was not fast enough when the other ninja took the small window of opening, slicing at him and opening another gash of crimson on his arm. But the clone melted as mud poured out of the supposed wound, Orochimaru appearing behind one of them, a shadow of death with golden eyes flashing, kusanagi missing that ninja's chest as he leaped away, cleaving his shoulders instead.

Before he could capitalize on the staggering of the anbu, the other turned on him. Chakra fast depleting, Orochimaru leapt away from the ball of flames spewed his way, towards the other anbu who had almost recovered from his strike.

Orochimaru's body elongated, and he slithered towards his victim, teeth clenched and chest heaving slightly as dirt and the forest's ground dug into his raw wounds. Kabuto would hardly approve of this, but Orochimaru needed to finish this. Fast.

The irises of the ninja was visible from the silts of the mask, and they were wide and dilating in fear, eyes not following his predator fast enough. Before the ninja knew it, kusanagi was already plunged to the hilt in his chest, and Orochimaru had shoved his unmoving body off his sword.

Orochimaru turned, and the last anbu halted, kunai poised and ready, but not striking. Orochimaru could smell it in the air -the ninja feared him.

What a sight he must be right now, Orochimaru thought. Blood splatters on his face and torso, some his, but mostly not. His golden eyes narrowed, the feral gaze trained on that one anbu left, circling the lone sheep as a predator would a prey.

Right now, aside from the menial amount of chakra left, he was running purely on adrenaline and the desire to live and see the next sunrises with Anko. Had the anbu known how weak a state Orochimaru was in, perhaps he might have been more forthcoming in the attacks. Still, even with his strength gone, Orochimaru was no fool. Sometimes, a bluff was all that kept the enemy cautious, and it was all he had now. Either that, or death. But death wasn't an option, no, not for him.

Orochimaru cannot, _would not_ allow himself to abandon Anko. Like how Dan did Tsunade.

The anbu's shoulder tensed, his hold on the weapon tightening. Orochimaru almost manage to smirk through his haze of pain at the tell-tale signs, pale lips tightening as the anbu prepared to launch himself at him. Orochimaru's grip on kusanagi shifted ever so slightly, the angle changed only the barest, but it would-

"I would not think of doing that. Orochimaru would skewer you before you reach him." A voice cut through the silence of the clearing, one that had Orochimaru's eyes darting up at the familiarity of the tone. He could almost feel a beat in the cavity where his heart should have been.

The kunoichi landed with a soft tap, tan trench-coat settling around her figure as she dropped from the trees. Brown eyes locked with his golden ones, and Orochimaru did not like what he saw there. There was something in her eyes that unsettled him. Something he was not used to seeing on the Anko he'd grown used to.

Disgust. The slight curl of her mouth, the damning gaze she turned on him, the minute frown of her eyebrows.

"What is the meaning of this, Anko?" The ambush _had_ been too opportune for the Leaf, occurring just when he was his weakest, just when he decided to switch hideout, and at the perfect place. Orochimaru did entertain the thought of a leak within his ranks, and had been wondering if one of his lieutenant were responsible.

But surely, surely not...

"You are really slow today aren't you?" Anko's voice -drenched in so much hate- answered his thoughts. "Must be the rejection of the host vessel you told me about. I really have to thank it. If not I don't know how our ambush would have worked."

Orochimaru's eyes widened the merest, before they narrowed, a cunning in his eyes that was never meant for her present in them. "Who sent you? Danzo? The village Elders?" Fury boiled inside him. He would flay them alive and leave their corpses for the crows to feed. Because the Anko he knew, the Anko who softly professed her love for him as her face turned a rosy red, she would not do this.

Yet the smirk she sent his way was chilling, doing nothing to reassure him, and a shiver of fear ran down his spine, his blood running colder than the forest's air. The slightest of doubt grew, their devious thoughts spreading through his mind like a rampant plague.

Small cracks appeared in the walls of the castle, their thin sinewy fingers reaching further and further still, forming an intricate web on the glass.

Anko...

Hard brown eyes looked back at him, hate simmering beneath the surface. "Is it so hard to believe that it's me? I mean, what we had in the past month, well it was fun and enjoyable. And I might have said some things, but it's in the heat of the moment, I'm sure you would understand."

Pain lanced through Orochimaru at Anko's words, as if they'd dug a knife into his chest and twisted the blade in his flesh. He knew what she meant, and if this had happened in the first few weeks, he would have expected it, would even be prepared for it, but after months...

Impossible.

Orochimaru approached Anko slowly, trying his best to keep the violent emotions warring within from showing on his face -anger, hurt, confusion. Betrayal. He held them all at bay. He reached out and for the first time, he noticed that he was trembling. His hand hesitated in the still air. Then he reached to caress Anko's face.

But before he could, she stepped back, saying something about not wanting any misconceptions from Konoha. Orochimaru couldn't be too sure. Because that small action of avoiding him -the agony was beyond anything he'd gone through before. He'd given her what he could, and she'd done the same too -but it was all a lie on her part wasn't it?

The fury came, a sudden wave of rage that he welcomed immediately, his fangs flashing, breath coming out short and shallow, face twisted in anger, vision running a fiery red. His sword hand came up, and Anko's smirk turned into an expression of shock as he swung kusanagi down.

Fear? She felt fear? Good. Because he was feeling a lot more worse than that, and it seemed only fair that she shared the burden of what he felt -she was the instigator after all.

Orochimaru wanted to shake Anko awake, and back to how she was before. Oh god, he wanted to _kill_ her for making him feel all these emotions, so human and oh so very excruciatingly _painful._

Kusanagi struck the trunk of the tree behind Anko, carving a deep cleave on the wood.

And despite himself, he wanted- no, he _needed_ her reassurance.

A warm wetness made their way down his cheek, and he would have thought them a figment of his imagination if not for the look of disbelief on Anko's face, together with an undercurrent of an emotion in her eye, so out of place -anguish. But now Orochimaru knew. It was just what he'd wanted himself to see, what he had deceived himself into thinking.

As if from a disconnected moment from the dark reality, he slowly reached up to his cheeks, golden eyes widening as his the pad of his fingers came away wet from his face. His knees almost buckled. Orochimaru felt his balance falter for a while as he stumbled back, unbelieving eyes on the moisture a thin transparent film on his fingers. Orochimaru never cried. He _never _cried.

Orochimaru looked up, and even as a needle jabbed his neck, even as his vision blurred, Anko's smile- It made his breath catch.

That bitter, hate-filled and scorning gaze did not manage to mar the beauty of her smile, so painful to him now even in it's splendor, the sharp edges flaying him alive. The icy shards in her eyes chilled him to the very core, leaving no more room for doubts -Anko was no longer his.

She'd never been his.

Somewhere, the sky rained glass -the shattered remains of what was once upon a time.


End file.
